Rflections of Doubt
by Lithiumflower2501
Summary: Claire has returned from the nightmare she suffered in Antarctica. Will she be greeted by a red carpet when she sets foot on her homeland, or hostility? Can Leon help her, or is all hope lost? Claire/Leon


**Welcome to Reflections of Doubt, this is my first "new" work so I'm getting used to writing again lol. Take it how you will, no judgement here.**

****Disclaimer: I profit in no way from the intelectual or physical property of the copyright holder or their affiliates**Reflections of Doubt:**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1:<strong>

Claire felt an all consuming sense of relief sweep over her torn and weakened body. She gazed beyond the horizon, her mind absent, she had been through far too much to dwell on; it was all beyond her comprehension. Her reflection shone back at her against the night's sky, dark clouds passed her ethereal features, illuminated by the stars and flashing lights of the air-liners wing. She looked into her pale grey/blue eyes, noticing the dirt, scrapes and bruises on her face; she was a wreck. Her jeans were torn at her knees; her knees were scraped and scratched as well. Her black t-shirt was missing most of its belly, and a long thin cut had been bandaged underneath. Out of all her injuries, her hands were the worst, bone raw from constant abuse and nearly frostbitten in the sub-zero temperatures in Antarctica. To her surprise though, her crimson, leather vest was intact, despite a little dirt and dried blood. She had pulled through by the skin of her teeth and if it hadn't been for Chris, she would've died alongside Steve.

'_Umbrella will pay for what they did to you...I hope you're in a better place.'_

Steve's death had been traumatic in the least to Claire. It wasn't that she harboured some misplaced notion of romance in him; rather that she had been thrown into a hellish situation where they depended on each other in order to survive. Steve had been a royal pain in the ass on several occasions, but his intentions were good, without him Claire never would have escaped the Island. And instead of sitting on an air-liner headed to the States, she'd be a infected corpse mindlessly wandering the deserted Island.

'_At least it's all over now.'_

Claire threw herself into the plush seat of the plane, a strand of her auburn hair falling across her vision. She gently blew the strand from her eyes and looked at the rows of tiny lights that ran down the ceiling of the aircraft. As she relaxed she became aware of all her surroundings; the buzz of the lights, the subtle coughs and sneezes of other passengers. She could hear the plane's filtering system recirculating the air in a soft mechanical drone. Anything was better than the haunting noise of the undead, of Umbrella's experiments.

"I wonder how long it will be before we land," stated Claire, exhaling loudly as she waited for reply, hearing none. "Chris?"

Claire shifted to face Chris, letting herself fall deeper into the seat as she looked at him. Her older brother was fast asleep, snoring just loud enough for Claire to hear. Given the circumstances, Claire didn't mind, she understood completely how tired he must have been. After what she'd been through, she was surprised that Chris even lived through a one-on-one battle with Wesker. She knew he was tough, but he'd taken a hell of a beating by Wesker and managed to walk it off with not so much more than a few bruises.

Claire let a short smile drape her chapped lips as she reached across the short distance between her and her brother and swept his short hair behind his ear. She watched him sleep, gently shifting as he dreamt. His hair had fallen down, the gel he'd spike it up with no longer holding from all the dust, water and freezing wind. He was wearing only a white t-shirt that was more of a brown from dirt and filth, a pair of olive drab cargo pants and a pair of black, scuffed combat boots. His stubble masked most of the cuts on his face, although his right eye would bear the marks of the shiner Wesker dotted on him.

"Thank you, Chris." whispered Claire as she rolled onto her back, once again peering to the ceiling.

'_You're always there when I need you.'_

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><p>Chris and Claire only barely managed to escape from the Antarctic base, thanks to Alfred's mistake of flying his Harrier fighter jet there, Chris was able to commandeer the plane and get out of the death trap before it all caved in on itself. With only half a tank of fuel though, Chris managed to get as far as he could, making an emergency landing on a United Nations aircraft carrier. It was a fair while and a lot of explaining to do but eventually the commander in chief of the battleship came to terms with the Redfield's story.<p>

It took two days for the ship to make port at South America, where after a lengthy tutorial of customs and vein attempts to prove their identities they finally found themselves on a massive air-liner heading for New York. Sure it was far from Claire's apartment in the mid west, but she was speculative of how long her landlord would keep her apartment the way it was when she'd been gone for nearly a month and hadn't paid a week's rent. The point was that they were finally heading back home.

'_Chris is safe, now all we need to do is expose Umbrella.'_

When Claire woke form her incidental slumber, she realised that the passengers around her were shuffling down the aisle towards the exit. She turned to Chris to see him already on his feet, still appearing like he'd fallen out of an action movie. She pushed herself onto her swollen feet, her legs almost buckling beneath her. Claire had been through hell and half-way across the world, if there was anything she was looking forward to was a big serving at McDonalds and a nice, long bath.

She entered the long crowd and made her way to the exit. Walking side-by-side with her brother-come-saviour, Claire headed down the terminal bridge and made her way down through the lobby to the car park. She waited briefly as Chris caught up to her, looking out into the torrential rain pouring from the heavens. The car park lights shimmered on the asphalt, giving a sense of ambivalence. Claire looked to Chris, seeing the heavy bags lining his brown eyes.

"C'mon, we should get a cab." said Chris, motioning with his head to the rank of taxis.

"Where are we going to go?" asked Claire as she followed her brother along the sidewalk, staying out of the rain.

Chris shrugged as he walked, "I don't know, I'll book us into a motel for the time being."

Claire swallowed the gathering lump in her throat, "you should know...I don't have any money. I spent the last of my savings on the flight to France."

Chris stopped and faced her, placing one of his large hands on her narrow shoulders, "don't worry about it Claire, I'll take care of everything."

'_After everything we've been through, I'm still just his little sister.'_

Chris gave her a reassuring look and headed towards a cab, he stepped around the side so as Claire didn't have to walk into the rain. She watched her brother sit heavily into the cracked rear seat of the large taxi, his hair glistening with globules of rain. Claire couldn't help but smile as his wet hair clung to his forehead. She'd seen him almost always with his hair spiked, it was a comical moment to see him out of his comfort zone.

"Where to?" asked the driver, half-turning to glance between his fare.

"A motel, somewhere cheap." replied Chris.

The cabbie nodded to Chris before pulling out of the rank, "I know a place."

Claire let her body sink into the hard material covering the seat. She let her mind wander as she looked out the window, raindrops sliding almost horizontally along the glass. She had no idea what time it was anymore, she was tired, and wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sleep. It didn't bother her that she only had the torn clothes she was wearing, or that her wallet was long gone. She just wanted to sleep.

Just as the auburn-haired woman began to feel sleep's grasp, the taxi jerked and slid to a tyre-screeching halt. Momentum threw Claire forward, her seatbelt digging into her clothing as her hair flew forwards. She looked out the windshield, spotting between the intermittent wipers and the constant flow of rain that there was a black sedan right in front of them. She squinted as she made out two small, flashing lights in the grill, and two dark figures emerging from the vehicles sides.

"What's going on?" asked Claire, getting no outside of Chris shaking his head, a stern look in his eyes.

'_This is bad.'_

Claire turned to Chris, her rich hair whipping around her, her mouth open to express her concern, but she couldn't find the words. She felt her body tighten as the two men grew closer, something was wrong and she could feel it. There was something about it, something strange.

The driver rolled down his window, "hey, what's all this about?"

One of the figures flashed a badge from inside his blazer, "this is none of your concern, sir."

Claire watched as the two figures moved to either side of the car, each of them opening a door and leaning down to meet Chris and Claire eye-to-eye.

"Mister Redfield?" asked one of the men.

Claire turned to the other as he said, "Miss Redfield?"

"Yeah?" answered the siblings in unison.

The men grabbed their arms, pulling them out of the car. Chris struggled as his instincts kicked in, her ripped his arm from the man's grip and pushed the man away from him. Claire gasped as the man threw his knee into her brother's stomach, pushing his face against the roof of the cab before he pulled out a pair of reflective handcuffs and snapped them tightly around his wrists.

"What the hell is going on?" demanded Chris as he strained against his captor.

"We're with the Central Intelligence Agency," stated the agent holding Claire, she knew better than to resist him. "Claire Redfield is a terrorist and you're under arrest for aiding and abetting a fugitive."

Chris continued to fight against them, "that's insane!" he roared, "Claire hasn't done anything."

"Don't Chris." argued Claire, the warm sensation of tears streaming down her cheeks. "It'll be ok."

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><p>Chris, despite Claire's request, fought tooth and nail against the agents reining him in. As far as he was concerned, neither of them had done anything illegal. He struggled as they pulled him out of the dark sedan and towards the Police station. It was an ironic feeling being taken into a Police station instead of escorting someone in. Nevertheless, he was adamant to prove his innocence, as well as his sister's. He wouldn't be her brother if he didn't.<p>

"She's innocent, damn it!" bellowed Chris as they pulled him through the large double doors and into the station.

As they pulled him towards the front desk, one of them turned to him, "you've been given your rights Redfield, don't make this harder on yourself."

Chris' temper was staring to get the better of him; whether it was the agent's job or not, Chris wanted nothing more than to cram his fist down the smug bastard's face.

'_They can't do this...'_

"You can't do this, I'm a police officer of S.T.A.R.S. Raccoon City police department." Argued Chris as they led him towards the overnight cell, which was crammed with various other criminals.

"And like the rest of S.T.A.R.S., you were disbanded over a month ago," replied one of the agent's as they reached the cell, unlocked the door and pushed Chris in. "Enjoy your night, Redfield."

Chris let the rage take over him, he shook the cell door violently and shouted; "Fuck you!"

Chris turned his back to the cell door and took in his surroundings. His eyes gazed carefully over the half-dozen inmates locked up with him. Each of them was either over or underweight, dressed poorly, some smelt of liquor and cigarettes, other's smelt like burnt petrol. Chris' eyebrows furrowed as he realised what kind of night he was looking forward to.

'_This is bullshit.'_

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, you don't have to review but please visit my profile and vote on my poll.<strong>


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